Valar Help Me!
by everLI7
Summary: ...or not. I'm Selene, and maybe I should not have been insulting the Valar right before I died... The tale of a girl who was sent into the War of the Ring as punishment. 10th walker.
1. It Begins

**Hello Reader!**

**Perhaps I ought to explain this story a bit- the _premise_ is somewhat of a parody of all those Girl-falls-into-Middle-earth and Chosen-by-the-Valar fics (to which I mean no offense). Selene is different from most of these OC's because the Valar dislike her. But when I say this is a 'parody', by no means am I saying it is a HUMEROUS parody (just to make that clear). The real reason I'm writing this is because I like to torture my OC's, and I had ideas for this that would not have worked in 'Feasicil'. Be warned, I intend to be cruel to Selene! Enjoy! (or not!)**

**Disclaimer: I own only Selene and Marisol.**

* * *

It began one dreary, miserable Monday October 6th, as I was sitting in the car reading Greek myths.  
Or it might have begun when my sister was born and named Marisol (my mother objected to the name Helia) for the sun, and two and a half years later I was named Selene, for the moon. This was because our parents were LOTR freaks and decided to name their children for celestial objects, like Númenorean royalty did. And in a family like that, how could my sister and I _not_ becone LOTR freaks as soon as we were old enough to understand it?  
But no, I think it really began that day in the car. After all, it was _October 6th_, a bad day in itself, and a Monday besides! We should have known. It's the sort of day that makes Friday the 13th sound like Christmas.  
The day started bad and never got better. Dad, who usually drove us to school, had an early work meeting and was gone by the time we woke up, and Mom had to stay at home because the electrician was coming to fix the lights in the living room, so Marisol was driving.  
Now Marisol isn't a bad driver or anything, just inexperienced. She's seventeen and has a license, but isn't allowed to drive people outside her family yet. Usually she doesn't drive to school in the mornings, as she isn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, and typically picks out her clothes the previous night, sleeps late as possible, and stumbles into the kitchen in time to grab a PopTart and a juice box and hop into the car bleary-eyed and yawning.  
But by no means is Marisol disorganized, so she goes to bed early, sets her alarm extra loud, eats a bowl of cereal inside the house, and on the morning of the sixth sits in the driver's seat without the normal glazed tired look in her eyes.  
I guess I ought to be grateful that she was awake the last time I saw her.  
I, that morning, was sitting in the passenger seat long before my sister even started her breakfast, wide awake and working frantically on a worksheet which I somehow forgot to complete over the weekend. I spare a moment to toss Marisol the keys before returning my full attention to frantic scribbling.  
Marisol starts driving and executes several turns which would totally win the knock-my-textbook-onto-the-floor competition, if there was one. That's annoying enough, but then, pitter-patter pling pitter-patter pling-plop-pling, the rain starts, and the thrumming-drumming of those blasted little drops on the car roof just about drives me _mad_.  
"By the Witch-king's toenails!" I swear (for this is my version of 'profanity'). "Mari, can you turn the rain off? I can't work like this!"  
"No, I don't think so. What are you working on, anyways? Ms. Fletcher's stuff?"  
"Yep." Honestly, it was giving me a headache before the rain even started. "Freshman English is murder!"  
So true. Was I tempting fate?  
"_All_ English classes are murder. Unless it's Tolkien stuff."  
"I guess, except maybe _The Silmarillion_."  
"What's wrong with _Silm_?"  
"It's just so _dense_! And the Valar are stupid."  
"Selene!"  
"Well, they act pretty stupid! I mean, they let Melkor just prance around and take over because they were throwing a silly little party for no apparent reason!"  
Marisol practically chokes. "Well _read_ it and maybe you'll understand!"  
I haven't read it, because I'm fourteen and that book just seems to me like a college textbook (only on a more interesting subject that most things), and I hardly understand a word of it, but Marisol has explained a bunch of it to me. "Well do I want to read it?" I mean, the world of Arda is pretty cool, but the Valar irritate me, although possibly because Ms. Fletcher has been teaching a unit on Greek mythology and I'm sick of it. "I mean, what do they even do? Dance? Plant trees? Laugh stupidly for no apparent reason? And then there was the one who does nothing but cry, and the one who just sleeps all day? And then the Man-whatever guy? Like what does he do? Rule some stinky underworld place and kidnap girls and talk to dead people? How weird is that?"  
Well, I suppose I ought to be sorry for that rant, but I was doing a worksheet on Persephone and Hades! I just got _Silmarillion_ and Greek stuff mixed up, is all!  
Marisol is staring at me. And staring. And staring. And staring. And staring. And staring. "Selene! That's the _Vala__r_-"  
And then she remembers she's _driving_.  
"Mari-"  
At the last moment she swerves left-

but-

it's-

too-

late-

And I have time to think,

_my homework's not finished  
it's all my fault isn't it?  
goodbye world and mom and dad and-  
how much does it hurt? death and pain?  
five...  
i fear it i can't be brave  
four...  
i'm sorry! for everything ever!  
three...  
i didn't mean to mari! promise! i'm sorry  
two...  
i'm scared mari  
one...  
mari?  
mari-_

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**_Please Review! I welcome all comments, positive, negative, or random, especially constructive criticism! Any ideas? Is Selene a Mary-Sue? Has anyone read_ The Silmarillion_? Thanks for reading!_**


	2. The Halls

**Hi! I am finally back with a new chapter.**

**Thanks to all readers, and especially to:**  
**Followers: thecrownlessagainshallbeking, Nyla Evergale, BeautifulCrimsonChaos, AckaRed**  
**Favoriters: Kyouki no kitsune, LadyVanya**  
**Reviewers!: Nyla Evergale, BeautifulCrimsonChaos, LadyVanya**

**To those wonderful Reviewers: Hmm, maybe I should wait a few chapters before asking about Mary Sue evaluations. It's cool that _The Silmarillion_ is well-liked; I myself like it very much, even if Selene doesn't. And I have updated! (Yes, it is after an inexcusably long time, but I have!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or The Silmarillion. I do own Selene. (Is that a good thing or a bad thing?)**

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I am alone when I wake up.

I am quite disoriented, too.

Around me is a vast and endless hall of dark stone, with high shadowed ceilings, majestically dismal and tranquil. I imagine how cool an echo would sound in this place, and shout, but the sound is hollow, and swallowed up by the walls.

Since stone walls do not typically absorb sound, I walk closer to one and examine it.

The stone was not responsible for blocking the echo, I find. No, that would be the tapestries upon the walls, intricately woven in many shades of stone and shadow, with subtle glimmers of silver... Or maybe mithril. Maybe the tapestries show deep dwarven mines in Khazad-dûm.

Obviously, this is no hospital.

But still, why would someone want a tapestry of mines? And not even of Erebor, which might at least be commemorating the finding of the Arkenstone?

Thinking that it might hold some clue, I walk to the opposite wall, which bears a similarly unlit and uneventful scene. On it is no clue, but I suddenly remember one of Mari's Silmarillion lectures.

_She's the Weaver. She weaves the history of Arda._

_So basically she makes the World's Biggest Illustrated History Textbook?_

No. No. By Melkor's toes, no.

Vi...Var...Varda? No, not Varda, but V something... But more importantly, she was married to Man-dough, who ran the Halls of the Dead.

Man-dough, whom I spent most of the end of my life insulting...since I'm dead now, aren't I, being here?

I am most certainly doomed.

* * *

"You must be flattered."

What? I spin around and am confronted with a very tall man- or Vala, perhaps- easily three or four times my height, wearing black robes, with a face that is somber and stern. With a face like that, I'd bet he could be a great and terrifying lawyer. He regards me with severe disapproval.

This, I imagine, is Man-dough.

"Hi, Man-dough," I say with a cheeky grin, because I am not frightened of him. (Really, truly- okay, maybe a _little_... What, should I have quaked in fear instead?). "Thank you. Why are you flattering me?"

"I am called Mandos, after my Halls," he says, even more sternly. I had never realized that level of sternness was possible. "You may be, but should not be, pleased, for you have wreaked chaos upon the Valar and these Halls with your insolent words."

Mandos. So that was his name. Whatever. "Am I being like that pyromaniac elf...you know, Fëanor? Are you going to curse me?"

"No," he told me. Later on I would wonder if his sternness had been a façade and he was really laughing evilly inside. Of course, that sort of thing was part of what got me into this in the first place. "I shall not curse you, Selene. I shall teach you."

"What?" I asked. Only I did not say it to Mandough-Mandos- because I was no longer in those Halls.

No. I said it to a dwarven skull.

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**A/N: Reviews motivate me to write (hint hint).**


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